


All Those Buttons

by Geenee27



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Phrack Fucking Friday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 15:06:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12684318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geenee27/pseuds/Geenee27
Summary: This was supposed to celebrate November PFF, which was last Friday. However it ended up more PF than PFF and just hung around while I figured out what to do with it. Like junk it. However the lovely, supportive people over at Slack talked me into posting it. Blame them.For as much as we love undressing Jack, there is a case to be made for dressing him as well I believe.





	All Those Buttons

“No.”

“But Jack, you need something to wear.”

“Absolutely not!”

The Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher looked down at the man in the hospital bed, hand on hip, the other one raised holding out a garment bag. Detective Inspector Jack Robinson leaned upright against his pillows on the bed, right arm resting before him in a sling and glared at her.

“Well, you can't wear the clothes you came in with. They were absolutely ruined in the club brawl. Believe me, Mr. Butler tried his best but could not salvage them. Especially with that sizable... you know...tear. Where the broken bottle got you.” Jack looked down at his injuries, slightly horrified at the thought of her staff trying to launder his clothes.

“There is no need for you to supply me with new ones.”

“Of course there is. It was my fault you were there at all.” Definitely a discussion for another time.

“Still no, Miss Fisher. I am uncomfortable with you... ,” he indicated the garment bag with a head tilt, looking a little sheepish, “buying me... expensive things.”

“Oh, swallow your pride Jack. We're friends aren't we? Can't friends gift each other?” Phryne's voice went up an octave as she tried to appear casual. Jack stared her down for a moment and then huffed resignedly.

“I will pay you back. That is non-negotiable.”

“If you insist. Now out of bed.”

“I think I should wait for a nurse.” Jack stubbornly dug in.

“I was a nurse, remember.”

“I'm beginning to suspect your motive here isn't all that altruistic.”

“Don't be like that, Jack. Do you need help getting up?”

At that Jack swept the bedclothes off himself with his one good arm and swung his legs to the floor. He wore the drab cotton pyjamas the hospital had supplied, which were a size too big and made him look thinner than usual. Also, he had probably lost some weight while recovering, despite the supply of home cooking from Wardlow. At one point, Jack had had to put his foot down when Phryne appeared one day with blue silk pyjamas; and thereafter had had to reiterate that in no uncertain terms was he to miraculously wake up in them. Phryne had the decency to appear shocked that he would even think such a thing.

Phryne laid the garment bag on the end of the bed and walked over to Jack as he stood up unsteadily. When she reached up and started to undo the top button on his pyjama top, he startled and raised his left hand to still hers. 

“What are you doing, Miss Fisher?” His eyes went wide and to his chagrin he felt a warmth start to spread across his hollowed cheeks as he fought studiously to remain calm. This woman! She was continuously trying to put him on his back foot and unfortunately mostly succeeding. He had thought himself inured to her games by now, but then again she was an... unusual woman. 

“I'm helping you get dressed.”, she eyes were too innocent and her expression completely guileless.

“I can get dressed myself, thank you.” Phryne watched his Adam's apple do that little swallow thing she adored and continued on to undo the second button. Jack began to flush red at the top of his ears and down his neck.

“What happened to 'I'm a grown man', Detective Inspector?” She smirked.

“Out.” He motioned to the door as best he could, refusing to let her goad him.

Phryne drew her eyes over Jack with a promise that this was not over, then acquiesced and sashayed out the door. He shook his head as if to try clear it. As much as he enjoyed the sparring and her playfulness and her audaciousness, he was trying so hard not to develop any feelings for her - other then friendship. After all, there were undoubtedly countless others who had loved her and he would be nothing special in a long line of doomed men.

Jack's furrowed brow focused back on the garment bag. He bent and tried to pull it's zipper down with his left hand. When that did not work he eased his right arm out of the sling, leaned that elbow on the bag to hold it in place and tried again. After much trial and error, the tab was finally dragged to the bottom; abet with considerable pain to his damaged arm and abdomen. He cursed. Working one handed was going to be a lot harder then he thought, but - he was resourceful – he could do this.

He hesitantly began to remove the garments from the bag. They consisted of an impeccably tailored, midnight blue suit jacket, with matching waistcoat, braces and trousers, a pristine white dress shirt and a silk tie with a maroon and midnight blue motif. Jack's shoulders sagged, his face fell and he cursed again. Breathing in deeply, he shook his head once more. He appreciated her generosity, he really did, but... how to explain to her - that a 'gentleman' did not accept an expensive gift from a woman friend - without hurting her feelings. People would talk, and while that usually did not bother him, in the back of his mind he was always afraid that idle gossip could put an end to their working together. And somehow that bothered him greatly.

Half an hour later Jack was standing in stockinged feet and still mostly undressed. Undoing buttons with one hand had been relatively easy, however all he had managed after that was to pull on the trousers and dress shirt. And it had taken some time to manoeuvre his bandaged arm through the shirt sleeve, even though the material was quite generous. He was frustrated and tired and his head hurt as he contemplated the seemingly impossible task of negotiating trouser fasteners and shirt buttons. _Oh, this was just ridiculous_ , he grimaced, _I am a grown man after all._

“Miss Fisher!” he called out, suspecting full well she was lurking right outside the door. _And probably smug with it as well._

“Yes Jack?” She lilted through the door.

“I might need some help after all.”

Phryne pushed the door in and peered around it. She had to school her face so as to hide her absolute delight in finding her Inspector standing beside his bed, deliciously dishevelled, and wearing much fewer clothes then usual. This day was definitely getting better.

He gestured to his shirt buttons with the bandaged hand while holding his trousers up with the other.

Phryne sidled quietly over to him so as not to immediately spook the dear man, and gently lifted her hands to rest on the top button of the shirt. He had a singlet on under the shirt but she could still feel the warmth and smell the scent radiating off his skin. A memory came to her of the time she had surreptitiously leaned in when she was standing close to him, to breathe in that very masculine combination of sandalwood and soap. Phryne started to feel a little... unsettled.

She began to fasten them slowly so as to not disturb his wounds. Her eyes watched his. He just stared back with that impassive face he used quite often on her, almost daring her to say something inappropriate. She got to the third button down, then to her consternation she could feel her face getting warm and she lowered her eyes to his chest so that he could not read them. Her hands paused uncertainly for a moment and she fought to keep them steady. _Well, this would not do Phryne! What is the matter with you? You do not lose control to any man._

She hurriedly finished the remaining buttons on the shirt, which was hanging outside his trousers, then deftly took the tails of it and tucked them in, bringing her hands flat along his waist, inside the waistband from back to front to insure the material lay smoothly. Then before he could protest, she fastened the buttons on his fly, her fingers lightly brushing the soft cotton on his underwear. Jack shuddered a little at her touch as she finished straightening the look of the trousers. It seemed both were fighting to maintain control at this point.

Phryne looked back up at Jack, whose eyes had gone a very dark blue, her own eyes unfathomable, and glanced down to his lips which were slightly parted. She mentally shook herself again and leaned over to retrieve his braces. She could feel the tension growing exponentially within her as he raised his arms slightly so that she could reach around to button the braces in the back, then the front and draw them carefully over his shoulders. It unnerved her further to realize how solid and muscular his upper torso felt. Undressing Jack had had more play in her fantasies, however there was definitely something to be said for dressing him. 

Waistcoat sorted and suit jacket in place, with one shoulder laid carefully over the sling, she put the finishing touches on his tie and tucked it in. He really looked very handsome in blue and her breath hitched a little before she could prevent it. He noticed and his mouth twitched. His amusement was short lived.

“You need a hand with anything else, Jack?” He did not give her the satisfaction of a reaction to that remark. Mustering what dignity he had left he stepped back from her and moved on.

“No, thank you.” Jack straightened, his shoulders back, firmly convinced he had survived this round.  
His good hand smoothed down the front of his waistcoat and then tugged the trousers up slightly to see how they sat on his hips. “This suit fits quite well, how did you manage to get the correct size?” 

“Why, I used a tape measure Inspector.” Phryne was herself again and slyly smiled, her eyes twinkling, ball firmly back in his court as it were. Jack opened his mouth then just closed it again. Game, set, Phryne.


End file.
